


Pretty in Punk

by ethan_green



Category: Original Story
Genre: Child Neglect, Detention, Lesbian Character, Nonbinary Character, Other, Punk, nerd/punk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethan_green/pseuds/ethan_green
Summary: Trillian is a shy girl in Nisswa, Minnesota. She has a crush on the school's rebel, a nonbinary person named Harley. They've never spoken, but when Harley gets detention in the library--the same library Trillian volunteers in--will the two become friends and maybe something more? Or will the dirty halls of high school ruin any chance they get?
Relationships: OC/OC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Green hair, ripped jeans, and a Ramones t-shirt. That’s what Harley was wearing the first time Trillian saw them. 

They were sitting in the corner of the hallway, curled up against one of the heaters, eyes closed, listening to the music pouring through their headphones. A small, dreamy smile was on their lips. 

Then the bell rang and the smile disappeared, replaced with a hard look before they went off to class.

Trillian shook her head. Harley wasn’t a good kid, she knew that, the entire school knew that. They skipped class, popped pills, smoked weed under the bleachers, and swore at teachers. They were bad news. They were the kind of kid that Trillian’s mom wouldn’t let into the house. No, being interested in the punk wasn’t an option.

Still, that didn’t stop Trillian’s eyes from wandering over to them every chance they got. She couldn’t help it. Harley was bright and colourful and loud in a way that the rest of the world wasn’t. 

Trillian watched Harley everyday, so yeah, when they showed up in a wheelchair and missing one leg, she was a bit surprised. Harley didn’t seem hurt, or scared, and they’d been in school the day before, so Trillian was probably missing something.

“Hey, Dad, what gives?” she overheard one of the younger lesbians ask.

“Didn’t feel like wearing my other leg today, I guess,” Harley shrugged, like it was no big deal. Apparently it wasn’t, seeing as the girl laughed and high-fived them before walking away.

Trillian admired the way they could do that. They could justify anything with “didn’t feel like it”. She shook her head. She was a good girl, with a good strong head on her shoulders, that’s what her mom always said, which is why she was going to volunteer at the library during her lunch instead of going to talk to Harley under the bleachers.

She pushed open the door and went to sign in on the volunteer sheet. No one really came into the library at lunch, save for kids who wanted to study, or kids who wanted to play games on the computers, so she was more or less alone for the hour.

She could hear shouting in the hallways, but ignored it in favour of putting away the turned in books. It was a solid routine. Pick up a book, check the section, check the last name, put it on the shelf. Repeat.

She ignored the emo kid who sat in the corner, behind all of the shelves, pretending not to notice the crackers that broke the library’s “no food” rule laying next to them. She reminded the kids on the computers not to be loud. She helped a goth boy find the horror section and then checked out the book for him. Same as always.

The bell rang and Trillian went to physics. Harley was there, in the hallway, with a black beanie on their head, arguing with the principal, Mr. Clark. 

“It’s school division rules,” he insisted.

“It’s also school division rules to have ramps or elevators if required, and yet here I am, still having to get down the fucking stairs with my chair,” they argued.

“Listen here, young man.”

“I’m not a fucking boy!” 

It was as if someone had hit the pause button. No one moved, no one spoke. Harley’s heavy breathing was the only sound.

“To the office, Sekabe,” Mr. Clark ordered, reaching down to take the hat.

“Touch me and I’ll bite you,” Harley warned, spinning around in their wheelchair, “And it’s Shekabe, Principal Dumbass.

Trillian and Harley made eye contact for a split-second, and she recoiled. The look in their eyes was angrier than anything Trillian had ever seen.

She rushed off to class, clutching her books to her chest.

“Hey, Tril, did you hear?” Trillian’s friend, Millie asked.

“Hear what?” she asked.

“Emily MacGregor is dating Shawn Shellinburg!”

Trillian frowned, pulling out her notebook. “I thought she was with Mack Williams.”

Millie rolled her eyes. “That was last week, Tril, keep up.”

“Oh.”

Trillian didn’t really care about the school gossip (and God knew she couldn’t care less about Emily MacGregor, but Millie was one of the only people in the school who hung out with her, so she listened. 

“Anyway, I need a date for the Sally Hawkins dance,” she continued, “The theme is like, the eighties, or something, are you gonna go?”

“Probably not,” Trillian replied.

Millie snorted. “Surprise, surprise.” 

The teacher finally got there and began class. 

Trillian’s notebook was filled with organized notes. No doodles. Nothing that wasn’t physics. Her mom did a notebook check every week. Any pages with drawings, she made her re-write.

The old intercom beeped to life above Mrs. Net’s head.

“Hello, is Trillian Anderson there?”

“Yes, she is!” the teacher called back.

“Could she pack up and come down to the office please?”

“Sure,” the intercom turned off. 

Mrs. Net turned to Trillian and shrugged. “Go on then, Tril. I’ll give you the notes later.”

“Thanks.” As she walked down the hallways to the office, her heart sped up. She had never been called down to the office before; she had no idea what to expect. Was her mom hurt? Did something happen to Grandma?

Trillian pushed open the glass door and approached the desk nervously. She coughed, making the secretary look up from her computer.

“I’m Trillian Anderson, I, uh, I got a call to come down here?” she stuttered.

“Yes, Trillian, okay,” she looked through the sticky notes, “Right! Mr. Clark wants to see you in his office. Just around the corner.” She pointed with her pen, going back to her reports.

“Okay, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She went around the corner. Her knees felt as though they were going to give out from under her.

The principal was sat beside his desk, across from a certain wheelchair-bound punk.

Trillian and Harley stared at each other.

“Trillian, thank you for joining us,” Mr. Clark smiled, “Please take a seat.” Harley sneered.

“Yeah, no problem,” Trillian agreed, sitting in the empty chair.

“Do you know Miss Sek-”

“I’m not a Miss,” Harley interrupted, a glare fixed on their face.

“Mr.-”

“Strike two.”

“Do you know Shekabe?” Mr. Clark looked ready to blow.

“No, not really,” Trillian shook her head. It was more or less true. 

“Well, she’s decided that she’s got a problem with authority,” he explained, “Madame Bruje says you volunteer at the library everyday, is that correct?"

“I mean, yeah,” she said, blushing as Harley raised their eyebrows.

“Well, Shekabe will be joining you for the next two weeks. Every day you are in the library, she will be too.”

“Yippee,” Harley drawled, “Two weeks of hanging around a nerd. You’re getting soft in your old age, Dick.”

“My hope is that being around a model student such as yourself will encourage her to get her head on straight.”

“Nothing about me will ever be straight,” Harley said. 

Trillian bit her lip. Her shoulders shook in an effort to keep the laugh from escaping her mouth.

“Yes, sir, of course,” she said instead. An hour per day. Five days a week. For two weeks. Alone with Harley Shekabe. Holy shit.

The two left the office and Trillian turned to Harley. 

“I’ll be in the library tomorrow at four. See you there?”

Harley gave her a look that wasn’t quite annoyed or angry, nor was it confused. It held a very specific emotion, one that Trillian didn’t know how to decode.

“Yeah, probably.”

And with that, they were gone. Trillian stared at their back until the final bell shook her from her daze. Her life just became a lot more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Trillian was more surprised than she should have been when she walked in to the library at 4:05 the next day to see Harley sitting on one of the tables, swinging their legs and staring at the door. The librarian, Madame, Bruje, was just leaving.

“I left the books on the desk for you,” she said, lowering her voice as she leaned in, “That punk should be leaving soon, but be careful, okay?”

“I will, thank you,” Trillian took the keys offered to her.

The library was empty, like it always was on Friday afternoons, so Trillian didn’t worry about being loud. She put her backpack down in a chair and waved at them.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Harley replied.

“Um, I’m gonna put books away, you do...you, I guess,” Trillian said, moving to grab the first pile of books on the desk.

“That’s what I plan on.”

Trillian worked in silence for a few minutes, looking over at Harley once in a while. Every time she did, they were staring right back. Harley finally sighed, going over and grabbing a stack of books.

“Where do these go?” they asked.

“Uh, I don’t know, check the side. It has the section and the author’s last name. They're sorted alphabetically,” she replied distractedly.

Harley rolled their eyes. “Okay, dork.”

Trillian didn’t respond, distracted by Mr. Clark coming into the library.

“Where is he?” he asked her.

“Who?”

“Shekabe.”

“Oh, them,” Trillian pointed towards the back shelves, “Putting away books.”

Harley’s green haired head poked out, a cheeky grin on their face. “Miss me already, Dick?”

“That’s Mr. Clark to you,” he scowled. “What are you doing back there?”

“You heard her, I’m putting away books,” they glanced down at the book in their arms. “ _Murder on the Orient Express_. That’s a bit of a spoiler, huh?” They ducked back into the shelves.

“I will be in my office, if he gives you any problems,” Mr. Clark told Trillian, “And you better behave!” He shouted so Harley could hear him.

“Yes sir.”

Harley came back out, empty-handed once he had left. “Do you like him?”

She looked up. “What?”

“Do you like him?” It wasn’t a mean question, just an honest one.

“He’s the principal,” Trillian shrugged.

“Yeah, thanks, genius, I know. That’s not what I fucking asked. I asked if you liked him.”

“I mean,” Trillian felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “No, not really.”

Harley nodded. “Good.”

They pulled their phone out of their jeans pocket. A few clicks later, and a song Trillian had never heard before turned on.

“Shh!” she hissed, “We aren’t supposed to make noise!”

“Eh, who gives a shit? There’s no one around to hear,” Harley pointed out. “I’ll turn it off if Dick comes in, don’t pop a blood vessel.”

“Well, I guess that’s okay.”

“Wasn’t asking permission, but thanks.”

Harley sat on the table again and Trillian sat in the chair next to them. The other teen seemed content to sit and listen to music without talking, but Trillian had different ideas.

“Why did you come today?” she asked.

Harley stared at her, one of their eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Why did you come here?”

“Uh, because I had to?”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Trillian argued.

Harley shook their head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why don’t you-”

“I said it doesn’t fucking matter!” they got up, staring her down. “Why do you care anyway?”

Trillian got up too and-- oh.

Harley was short. Really short. Their head barely reached her shoulder. Trillian bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Something funny, dweeb?” they asked, scowling.

“No, nothing. Sorry,” Trillian grabbed a random book from the nearest shelf and sat down to read.

Harley scowled. “Good.”

The library returned to silence after Harley turned off their music. They groaned, laying on top of one of the tables. “This. Is insanely boring.”

Trillian stayed quiet. 

“So, Cherry,” Harley said.

“What?”

“Why did you come here today?”

“I always do.”

“Well, yeah, Principal Dipshit said that, but why do you come here so often?”

“Will you answer my question if I answer yours?” Trillian didn’t look up from her book, holding her breath.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t have that many friends, and, as boring as this place may be, it’s preferable to anywhere else in this place,” Trillian admitted, “If I go home, my mom just makes me study anyway, so might as well exercise the little control I have, right?”

“Yeah,” Harley nodded. They pulled out a hand-rolled blunt and lit it. After a few breaths they continued. “I’m here because if I'm not, Mr. Clark will call my dad.”

“Won’t he call your dad anyway?”

“Nah, he doesn’t care that much. But if I don’t show up, he definitely will, the bastard.”

“Oh.” Trillian paused. “But doesn’t your dad notice when you’re not home?”

“If I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be home. He won’t even know the difference,” they said. “Wanna drag?”

“I don’t smoke,” she replied, staring as the smoke curled out of Harley’s mouth. “It’ll kill you one day.”

Harley made a noise that was halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “Cherry, of all the things for me to worry about killing me, smoking is last on my list.” They took another drag. “At least I’ll die happy.”

Trillian rolled her eyes silently. “Why do you always argue with Mr. Clark?”

“Why do you think?”

“You don’t want me to say what I think.”

“What?” Harley sat up. “You think I’m dumb, right? I’m some stupid little punk kid? I’ll end up working at Sobey’s for the rest of my life?”

Trillian shook her head, though that was exactly what she had been thinking. “N-no.” She had always been a bad liar.

Harley growled, “I thought you were a nice kid. Right, like, you’re smart, you’re never insult people, even though they’re fucking annoying and treat you like shit. Why not me? I don’t get respect, because I’m not as good as you?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

Trillian scrambled for an answer. “It’s just, you’re always in trouble.”

Harley rolled their eyes. “Well, yeah, have you met me?”

“I don’t get in trouble.”

“Look, Cherry, if you’re going to keep saying things we both already know, I’m just going to leave.”

Trillian picked up her book again. “Nevermind.”

They sat in silence, Trillian reading and Harley smoking. At 5:00, Harley got up, stretched and picked up their messenger bag.

“See you around, Cherry,” they said.

“Wait!” Trillian pulled out a piece of paper. “Write your number. So I can text you when to come.”

Harley raised their right eyebrow, but complied. 

“Goodnight,” she said.

A ghost of a smile appeared on their face. “Good night.”

Trillian locked up the library, turning off the lights and rushing outside. Her mom was waiting in the car out front.

“Hey, Mom. How was your day?”

“Good.”

They drove home silently.

“I’m going out. Make sure Lisa eats, and get that studying done.”

“Okay.”

Trillian watched as her mom pulled out of the driveway. The headlights disappeared before she went inside.

“Trillian?” Grandma called, wheeling towards her.

“Yeah, Grandma,” she hugged her, “How was your day?”

“Oh, good, same old, same old. How was yours?” the old woman asked.

“It was weird.”

“Oh?”

“There’s this kid,” Trillian shrugged, “They’re weird, but I don’t know. They’re really pretty.”

“What are they like?” Grandma took a pan out of the oven. “Sit, I made enchiladas.”

“Well, they got in a fight with the principal earlier, and he’s making them volunteer in the library with me for two weeks,” Trillian explained.

“Are they nice?” Grandma slid over food on a plate.

“Well...no, not really,” Trillian shoved a forkful of the spicy chicken into her mouth. “They kinda switch between liking me and absolutely hating me.”

“That’s odd,” Grandma frowned, yawning. “I’m sorry, Trillie, I think I’m going to head to bed early tonight.”

“No problem, Grandma,” Trillian leaned over and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches.”

The old woman rolled her wheelchair to her bedroom, leaving her alone in the kitchen. Once Trillian was done, she cleaned her plate and wrapped the leftovers in tin foil and put it in the fridge for tomorrow.

She pulled out her phone and entered the number Harley had left and sent a text.

 **[6:39] - Trillian:** hey, it’s Trillian. I work in the library one Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays after school and Tuesday and Thursday during lunch.

There was no response, which Trillian had expected. She sighed and pulled out her physics textbook. She had a test on Monday.


End file.
